


Run Devil Run

by mothraa



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Backstory, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Blackwatch is a big family, Dad Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Deadlock Gang, Deadlock McCree, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison/Reaper | Gabriel Reyes - Freeform, It takes all of overwatch to raise this damn boy, M/M, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Teenager Jesse McCree
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-16 06:53:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11823483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothraa/pseuds/mothraa
Summary: McCree is at war with his past: hunted by the Deadlock gang, chasing his missing mother, and trying to atone for his past sins. For the first time in a long time, he's found an odd sort of family, and he will do anything to defend that.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick housekeeping! Hanzo won't be coming in for quite a few chapters still, so be prepared that this is gonna be a very, very, very slow burn. Archive warnings have been added due to later chapters, just to be on the safe side. Hope you enjoy!

The Deadlock gang recruited young--it made indoctrination easier.

Sometimes it was picking orphans off the street, sometimes it was the promise of rebellion and a life of adventure that coaxed youngsters out from under their parent's noses. Jesse had been somewhat of what they called a "charity case".

In the small desert town Jesse grew up in, Deadlock enforced a mandatory 'protection fee' they claimed helped them defend against any omnic who thought about a-wandering into town. It was pretty clear however the only protection they offered was the kind that kept their own lackeys from coming at night and busting up your homestead and killing your chickens.

"Rogue 'bot," they'd always say, tutting at your broken windows, your door hanging off the hinges. "Would be a shame if anyone had happened to get hurt. Make sure you pay up next time."

The first time was always a warning.

Jesse remembered how his mother did her best to provide for him. She worked two jobs to put him through a bit of schooling, and always managed to find time to be home and put warm food on the table.

"Jesse, no books at the table." she'd scold, a smile warming her face. Jesse would sheepishly put his book aside, usually an old second hand he'd borrowed about the tales of the wild west. He poured over those stories for hours, the kind about the battle worn sheriff defending his town from raiders and miscreants.

 _That'll be me one day_ , Jesse would muse. _I'll turn that Deadlock gang on their tails, show them for disturbin' the peace._

Jesse's mother tried her best to hide it, but he could tell they were struggling with money. He saw it when the Deadlock boys came to collect, and she'd wince while handing over greater portion of her month's earnings. He could see it when she sat at the kitchen table, pouring over the bills, counting and recounting her tip money, a grim look on her face. When she'd catch him staring, she'd smile sadly, calling him over to sit on her lap. She would hold him close, humming quietly and combing her fingers through his hair. He remembered how she smelled like earth and old rose perfume, and how he would bury his face in her long dark hair. His neighbors had told him about how his mother was once considered the enviable village beauty, before the dark rings had fallen under her eyes and years of worry had riddled her glossy black hair with ribbons of gray. Jesse didn't quite understand what they had meant of course, his mother was still very beautiful to him.

Yes, life was hard, but they made do in those times. They had each other, and when Jesse was old enough he started bringing in a little extra money. He was only ten, but he could trim bushes and clean gutters, or gather eggs for the old lady down the road who couldn't bend to reach into the chicken coop anymore. They payed what they could, often not much, but those who couldn't taught him things instead. Their next door neighbor taught him how to ride a bike, the lady two doors down showed him how to change oil on a car and replace a tire, and the old chicken woman showed him how to pearl knit.

"It _would_ takes a village to raise you!" his mother would joke, pinching Jesse's cheeks.

The little bit more money did help, and they were able to able to afford small extra things. Jesse's mother started buying sugar to make conchas, and for his eleventh birthday she made him a big chocolate cake, the first he'd ever had.

"Close you eyes, mijo! I have a present for you!"

Young Jesse scrunched up his eyes, beaming with excitement. He'd gotten presents before of course, but they'd always been practical things, like new shoes or school things. This was different, and Jesse could feel it in every bone in his small body.

"Alright, open you eyes!"

Jesse gasped, joy flooding him as he opened his eyes to find a sheriff star and a toy revolver in his mother's hands. The star was made of real tin, not cheap plastic, and pinned in the back instead of clipping. The toy gun was plastic, but the trigger worked, and as Jesse took it in his warm little hand, it made a satisfying _CRACK_ as you fired it. From then on, he carried them everywhere with him, to school, to his odd jobs, even sleeping with it under his pillow, the little tin star pinned to his chest. He was the new sheriff in town, and even if it was just pretend, it made him feel stronger, like the world was a little less big and scary.

It wasn't long after that it all came to a screeching end.

* * *

"Fee's been doubled."

"...What?"

"Yeah, the boss says somethin' big's coming, and we all need to be prepared for it. Ipso facto, protection fee's been doubled." The man smiled from ear to ear, looking very much like a coyote looking at prey.

"We don't...we don't have that kind of money.." Jesse's mother quaked, pulling Jesse behind her skirt as he peeked around.

"Well, that's a mighty problem we have here, señorita" He checked something on his phone. "Looks like you already had one incident of being unable to pay. I'm sure you're aware of the consequences."

She straitened up, locking eyes with the man in the doorway. "You will _not_ threaten me. If your boss wants double, fine, he will have double. And he will get it next month. This month I will pay what I owe."

The coyote raised his eyebrows, putting his hands up in mock-surrender as he stepped out of the doorway. "I don't make the rules, ma'am. If you can only pay half this month, that's fine! We can be reasonable!" He stepped close, a evil glint in his eyes. "But it'll be triple the fee next month."

Jesse remembered how his mother had stuck her chin out, defiant. "So be it."

She had slammed the door in his face before sinking to her knees, her long white skirt billowing down around her on the floor as she wept. Jesse had hesitated, his hand outstretched, before stroked her hair, crouching next to her. "It'll be okay, ma," He had said. "I'll pick up a few more odd jobs, its gonna be alright!"

She had shook her head, chest heaving. "We will have to leave town, find somewhere else to live. There's no way to come up with that much money in a month." She had sat up, her kohl liner smudged by her tears. Gripping Jesse's arms, she had told him firmly, "These men know no empathy, no love for anyone's family but their own. If they find us, they will kill us both, Jesse. I know you are just a boy, but you must understand that. We have to leave."

They packed their things that night. They didn't pack much, but then again they didn't own very much. Owning no car, they set out on foot, taking the dusty trails they had hiked before up into the mountains. They camped out for a few days, traveling during the night while it was cool and they could not not be seen. The plan was to reach the town across the mountains where it was said the Deadlock gang had been driven out.

And as Jesse remembered bitterly, they never did made it.

Three days out, they where ambushed while they slept. Jesse bolted awake, having heard his mother screaming as she was dragged from their makeshift tent.

  
"You're not the first who has tried to run from us," a voice shouted as Jesse peeked out of the tent, greeted by the sight of the coyote and four others on motorcycles. "Turns out the boss didn't like the idea of waiting so long for his due. Time to pay up, mamacita!"

"Go to hell, bastard!" Jesse's mother struggled with the man restraining her, holding her arms back at a painful angel.

"Aww, don't be like that, ya pretty thing." His drawl was falsely sweet as he sauntered over to her, striking her hard across the face. "Didn't anyone teach ya yer manners? Regardless, I'm sure we can still come to a peaceful understanding. How about you give me and the boys some...physical persuasion," He sneered, the other men cackling around him. "And we forget this whole thing ever happened?"

She paused, allowing him to draw nearer before spiting blood into his face.

"You nasty little bitch!" he cussed loudly, wiping the blood from his face before grabbing a handful of her hair. "You'll pay for that."

At that moment, Jesse burst from the tent, toy gun drawn and pointed at the man harassing his mother. "Leave her alone!" He shrieked, his hands shaking as he tried to keep the gun steady.

The man looked from his mother, to Jesse, and back to his mother, realization dawning on him, twisting horribly across his face. "Why, ya never told us ya went and had yer'self a little bastard son." He turned back to Jesse, letting go of his mother's hair before crouching down to his eye level. "Well hey there partner! How wouldja like yer'self a nice, real gun?"

"You leave him alone!" His mother cried, tears of fear beginning to stream down her face. "Jesse, Jesse boy you don't listen to him, alright? His words are poison!"

"Shut up, ya old hag!" The man smiled at Jesse, looking down the barrel of the toy gun. "Ya understand how delicate the situation here is lil' man? You wouldn't want nothin' to happen here to yer ma, now wouldn't ya?"

 _CRACK_ went the toy gun.

The man tsked softly, prying the gun out of Jesse's grasp. "I'm gonna give ya an option here, boy, cuz I'm feeling mighty generous today. We let yer ma go. We forget aaall the debt. Hell, she can up and leave town if she wants to! All ya gotta do is come with me and the boys here. We'll getcha a nice new gun, teach ya how to shoot it, too. You'll never go hungry again. Whaddya say to that?"

Jesse remembered it going real quiet, the only noise being the mountain wind kicking up red dust and tossing his mother's hair around her face. She was shaking her head frantically, desperation in her eyes. Looking back, he wondered what would have happened if he had said no. Would they have killed them both? Leave them to turn to skeletons up in the mountains where no one would look for them? It was pointless to speculate, as he had said yes to them that day, the last day he ever saw his mother in the flesh. He wasn't even given the chance to say goodbye. The instant he had given his little nod , he'd been hoisted by the waist onto the back of a motorcycle, his mother still kicking and screaming behind him.

The noise of the engines revving drowned out the coyote's last words to his mother. As the motorcycle careened away from the campsite, great sobs wracked his small body, his arm outstretched as he called back for his mother. The man holding her tossed her aside, mounting his own bike before speeding up to join them, leaving her in the dirt and brush as she screamed Jesse's name after them.

 


	2. Sweethearts and Pie

* * *

SIX YEARS LATER

* * *

 

"Rise and shine sleepin' beauty!"

Jesse groaned and cracked his neck, having fallen asleep slumped in a chair. "What I miss?"

"Nothin' much, just the better half of the mornin'. Whaddya doing sittin' outside all night?" A boy about Jesse's age sat down on the front porch next to him, whittling at a piece of wood with a pocket knife. The kid's name was Ollie, and he'd joined up with Deadlock just about the same time Jesse had been 'recruited'. He was alright, Jesse figured, just a bit crude--but he was the closest thing he had to a proper friend.

Stretching his legs out a bit, he gave a bit yawn, scratching the back of his neck. "Them older boys were makin' a real ruckus in there. Couldn't catch a wink of sleep with their hollerin'. Must be a bit of devil in that whiskey they picked up."

"Yeah, ya figure?" Ollie chuckled, twirling the pocket knife. "Whatever it was, it's knocked them out bum cold. Got the whole place to ourselves for a while." He gave a wink, batting his eyes comically.

"Aw, shove off." McCree rolled his eyes, standin up and pushing the chair back into the corner of the porch. It was true he'd come outside to get away from the noise, but he's also come out to think for a little bit. In the Deadlock gang, you were considered a man at sixteen onward, meaning you didn't get none of that babysitting treatment any longer. You could go where you like, when you like, as long as you finished any duties you had to attend to beforehand. Most of the time, the younger kids would whole up in this little shack in the hills, drinking whiskey and moonshine and dream about paying their dues and starting a new life outside the gang. Other kids dreamed of climbing the ranks, become their own boss one day. Jesse dreamed of finding his way back home. Within days of being recruited, he'd been shipped a couple states away, to prevent him from changing his mind and also to prevent anyone coming a-looking for him. He'd been trying to dig up info on his past ever since. His superiors had tried to convince him his past was all a fantasy, that he hadn't lived the life he lived. And they would have succeeded pretty well, too, except for a little detail they'd let slip through the cracks.

Jesse strutted across the porch, old boards creaking beneath his boots, breathing in the hot noon air. His hand slipped into his pants pocket, finding a cold piece of metal he stowed there, running his thumb absently over the smooth surface. Ever since the day he arrived, he'd kept that tin sheriff badge always on his person, knowing it was his only clue to his past and where he'd come from.

"Well, I donno about you, but I'm 'bout half as starved as a bear straight outta hibernation." Ollie spit tobacco from his cheek. "Whaddya say we head into town and get some grub." Without waiting much for Jesse's reply, he stood up, tucking the bit of wood and his pocket knife into back pocket before beginning the walk down towards the town.

"Sound's fair." Jesse shrugged, picking up and dusting off his hat from where it'd fallen as he'd slept. Placing it back on his head, he wandered down the road after Ollie, who was already a good stretch ahead of him. It was a pretty little town, settled in between the foothills of a larger mountain range. The honest folks that lived there made their money from the mining operations that brought trade in, but also by running a small textiles mill on the far side of town. It was simple work, but that's how they liked it. They were hardly aware of the real trade that went through their town, or the bunker of weapons stashed in the deeper basements of the old textile mill. They'd hear about the odd disappearances and break-ins, they'd see the blood pooling in the gutter Monday morning, but with the police bribed and the press gullible, they were led to believe it was no more than a few punks causing trouble after school. Jesse almost envied their ignorance.

Finally catching up to Ollie at the edge of town Jesse caught hold of his shoulder, preventing him from zipping off again.

"Before you leave me in the dust again, what've ya got a hankering for?"

"I'm thinking Auntie Pearl's, sound good to you?"

"Shit, I could go for a burger." Jesse smiled, pushing the brim of his hat up with his thumb. Auntie Pearl's was your classic small-town diner, pulled right out of the bygone age of the 1950's. Jesse had his doubts that it was as old as that, but with food as good as it was, and being usually full of pretty girls, he didn't have too many complaints. Walking down the road a ways, they arrived at the Auntie Pearl's busy corner location, hopping as always with the lunch rush. Pushing open the front door, it gave a pleasant little ding to alert the staff the new guests had arrived.

"Be right with y'all in a moment!" a waitress called, gesturing to them with a pot of coffee in hand.

"Busy day," Ollie mused, leaning up against the front counter. "Think they'll have any pie ready?"

"You ever stop thinkin' about pie?" Jesse asked, rolling his eyes.

"Only when I've got something better to sink my teeth into, speaking of..." he trailed off, his attention caught by something else.  
Jesse followed his gaze, finding he was staring down the pretty young waitress coming there way.

"Hello, hello..." Ollie breathed, visibly checking her out from head to foot as she stopped in front of them.

"Hey," Jessie shoved him, a bit irritated. "Have some respect, you weren't raised in a barn. Sorry about that darlin', my friend here's never seen anything half as pretty as you are today."

"That's quite alright," she smiled gently, lips round and soft, "Allow me to show you to your table." She walked them over across the restaurant, seating them at a corner booth before excusing herself to grab them each a glass of water. Ollie whistled quietly as she walked away, watching her until she went into the back.

"Jeez, what a wouldn't do for a little bit of sugar from a girl like that. Like an angel. And that accent? Where'd she come from?"

Jesse shrugged, wondering about the same thing. Everyone in town had a bit of a roughness to them, not to say there wasn't plenty of pretty pennies, they just had more grit to them. Everything about their waitress was soft, airy, untouched. Her blond hair was too perfectly styled, nails too clean, clothes too neat. She stuck out alright, and not just 'cuz of her accent. Jesse dismissed it, however. They got some new people coming in to town from time to time, folks that wanted bit of the small-town life. Kid probably had some family around town, maybe visiting for the summer.

She had arrived back with their drinks, placing them on the table before pulling her pen and paper from her apron. "And what can I get for you two today?"

"How about a nice big kis--OUCH!" Ollie winced, Jesse having kicked him under the table.

"I think he'll have the soup of the day and a slice of peach pie, sugar." Jessie smiled devilishly, cranking up the charm to smooth over Ollie's ostentatious demeanor. "As for me, just the burger, medium rare if you would. Side of fries."

"Of course, anything else?" her voice was steady, but Jesse could tell Ollie had gotten under her skin. He posture was more tense, and her gaze never strayed from Jessie. In any other situation, he'd be flattered by the attention, but right now, he felt ready to clobber Ollie for being such a goon.

"That'll be all, sweetheart." he sighed, turning his attention back to Ollie as she took her leave again. "Why do ya have to be such a moron? Can't I take you anywhere?"

"C'mon, let a fella live a little!" Ollie stretched out in the booth, arms up on the back. "Though she seems to have taken a liking to you. It's your brand I bet, you never cover it up. Girls like a guy with a few mysterious scars."

Jesse glanced at his left forearm, the white marks of a skull brand prominent against the dark tan of his skin. "Ah shit," he muttered, pulling his sleeve down over it. Deadlock gang branded all of it's recruits, a nice reminder that no matter where you went in life, Deadlock still owned your sorry ass. It wasn't a symbol recognizable to the public, but that didn't mean Jesse liked flaunting it about.

Soon enough, their food was brought out to them, this time by a different waitress than before.

"Real nice one Ollie, ya went and scared the poor gal. Bet she spit in yer food too, it'd serve you right for opening your trap." He punctuated his accusation by wacking his companion on the chest, causing him to wince away again.

"Aw, lay off me. You get girls all the time! I haven't had a good fuck in months." He accepted his soup from the new waitress, beginning to slurp it up loudly.

Jesse wrinkled his nose slightly. "Well damn, I wonder why."

He would continue this argument later. Right now, the burger being placed in front of him was the only object of his attention. He dug in right away, hungrier than he thought he'd been just a moment before. It was hard for him to remember sometimes that he was a growing young man. As a matter of fact, him and Ollie were both still just kids, supposed to be in high school learning their trigonometry and running laps around a musty old gymnasium. 'Stead they were learning how to run a clean-up job and how to take care of dead bodies on the go. Jesse stared grimly at his plate, the weight of the situation weighing down on him. Meanwhile, Ollie continued slurping his soup, blissfully unaware of his friend's heavy thoughts.

"Was everything alright for you gentleman?" Jesse looked up to see the pretty young waitress had returned, appearing almost out of thin air with the check and water pitcher in hand.

"Everything was a treat, thank you." He smiled again, throwing his used napkin on top of his empty plate.

"Excellent, I'll be around if you need me, but for now I'll just leave this here." She placed the check lightly on the table in front of Jesse, locking eyes with him as she did. There was something urgent to her gaze, catching him by surprise. She looked meaningfully down at the check on the table before turning to leave, walking briskly away to tend to more tables. Thoroughly confused, Jesse took up the check, finding a note had been neatly scribbled at the bottom in blue ballpoint pen.

_I know you're Deadlock. You are both in grave danger. Please come meet me outside Auntie Pearl's after 5pm. I will explain everything then._

Jesse raised an eyebrow, more curious now than alarmed. Grave danger? In this town? Their waitress was a little green, maybe she didn't quite know how things worked around here. But before he could consider it further, the check was snatched from his hand.

"You've got to be kidding me." Ollie mumbled, reading over the note.

"I know, it is a bit ridiculous, I-"

"You've said what, three things to this girl? And you've got yerself a date?"

Jesse rolled his eyes, "Ollie, I'd hardly call that a date invitation."

"Close enough! Wait..." he read the note over again, his nose almost pressed to the receipt paper. "It says both of us are in danger. That means I'm invited too!"

"Ollie..." Jesse pinched the bridge of his nose, slumping down into his seat.

They bickered back and forth like this for some time, berating each other about why they should or shouldn't go. Eventually, Ollie wore Jesse down, and he got up triumphantly, slamming a generous tip onto the table before marching out the door.

"Guess that leaves me with the check," Jesse mumbled, unaware he was being observed.

Across the restaurant, the young waitress watched him from the kitchen door, nervously waiting until he too paid and left. Hurrying back to they table, she gathered the tip money and used dishes, worrying over the young men who had sat there just a moment ago. It had not been her job to warn them personally, but it hadn't been planned that she'd meet the gang members face to face. She quickly finished tiding the table, almost turning away before noticing a note had been left for her in return. A napkin had been laid out where Jesse had sat, saying simply in big lazy letters;

_We'll be there_


	3. The Warning

Angela had been in town for a few weeks now, and barely a lead to show for it. She knew her deadline was closing in, and she was beginning to believe her entire presence there was all for nothing.

_"We have reason to believe the Deadlock gang has been kidnapping children as recruits for some time now, as we've seen missing minors turning up in their ranks for years. We need eyes on the ground there, see if we can find those kids before we strike,"_ Jack had said.

She had volunteered along with a few others to go undercover, see if they could find any signs, maybe save some innocent lives. None of them had found anything in all their time here, and Angela was about ready to give up hope. Stationed at the local favorite diner, she had thought she'd pick up on something through the daily gossip and chatter. But it seemed, at least from what she could gather, that the townsfolk were completely oblivious to the gang operations in their own backyards. Today the lunch rush was in full swing when she got off break, and she quickly hurried over to the front counter to seat the next guests.

The first boy was blonde, and certainly wasn't a charmer, but Angela had dealt with worse from much older customers since she'd worked there. At least he looked like he'd taken a bath in the past few days. The second boy was much more polite, and quite a bit taller, or perhaps that was just his hat and cowboy boots giving him some extra height. She sat the down in a corner booth, fetching them some water before taking their order.

_Heiliger strohsack_ , that blonde boy sure didn't know when to quit. She focused her attention instead on the cowboy, her eyes catching on odd scar on his forearm. She had been briefed on ways to recognize Deadlock members. Sometimes it was a black handkerchief or bandanna in their pocket, sometimes it was a broken lock tattooed on the back of the neck. But no matter what, they all shared the same scar of the skull brand on their body. Angela gripped her notepad tightly, suddenly unsure if she was afraid of or afraid for these boys. They were older, yes, but definitely younger than her at nineteen. It wasn't a lead, it was striking gold. She had to warn them, but first...

She left to give their order to the kitchen, asking another waitress if she didn't mind bring out their food when it came up.

"I know your busy, but you can have whatever tip they leave, Rita. I must make a phone call, it's urgent."

Rita rolled her eyes, waving her away. Angela thanked her again, retreating out the back door to call Jack.

"Jack, I know this isn't protocol, but I have a boy from Deadlock in my restaurant. Younger than I am, yes. Well if he's here there may be others, and we are running out of time. The meetup you plan to bust is at the end of the month, yes? What do I do? Do I warn them?"

Jack had fallen silent for a moment. Angela was right, this wasn't ideal, but they were running out of options. Even if the kids weren't interested in help, at least maybe she could bribe them to stay out of the fight. He eventually and reluctantly gave her the okay. But please, he said, please be careful. It should not have been her job, she was still fresh out of combat training, but Jack knew Angela could handle herself if things went sour. He had to have faith.

Returning to the kitchen, Rita handed her the meal receipt, going back to grab meals for the rest of her tables. Taking her pen out of the pocket of her apron, she scribbled them a note, hoping and praying that they wouldn't brush off the warning, that they would come after her shift ended. They had only two more days before the Overwatch sting operation, and every gang member in the valley was sure to be at that meetup. Angela held her breath, delivering the note before hurrying away. Hopefully, it would be every gang member minus two.

* * *

  
Angela checked the clock display on her phone, pacing nervously. It was 5:14 pm, and rain had begun to drizzle down, with angrier dark clouds on the horizon.

_They will come_ , she reassured herself, her heart racing anxiously. _They will come_.

As if on cue, she heard familiar voices from behind her, accompanied by the sloshing of boots through mud.

"Well howdy there, ma'am. Fancy meetin' you here." A voice drawled as Angela turned to greet them. "Seems like you've had yourself a real fright, darlin'. What's this all about now?"

It was the cowboy who had spoken, water pooling and dripping down from the brim of his hat. That other boy--had she heard him called Ollie? Regardless, his dark tee shirt had become soaked from the shoulders down, and he made no move to step out of the rain which had begun to pick up. An odd display of stubbornness, Angela mused. Or perhaps stupidity. She made room for them under the sheltered front door of Auntie Pearl's, her own waitress uniform getting damp from where the rain had blown her way.

"I'm afraid the matter is quite serious." She started, taking a deep breath to calm her racing thoughts. "There is to be a meet up with the Deadlock gang in but a couple days, and you must not attend, do you understand?"

The boy named Ollie looked a bit startled, but the cowboy seemed unfazed, scratching was looked to be the scruffy beginnings of facial hair on his young face. "Listen hun', we don't know no 'Deadlock gang' in this town. We're honest folks here. You've made some mistake."

Angela rolled her eyes, her patience wearing thin. _"Zur Hölle damit!"_ She muttered, searching in her bag before pulling out her badge and Overwatch credentials. "I am specially trained to identify any member past or present of the Deadlock gang. Do you, or do you not have the skull brand?"

Now they both looked astonished. Slowly, the cowboy nodded.

"As I thought. Now as for your companion, I have no proof other than the fact Deadlock has strict rules about friendships outside-of-gang, so likelihood would point to both of you being members, have I made myself very clear?"

They both looked very uncomfortable, the boy named Ollie shifting from foot to foot, now thoroughly soaked. "Ya don't have nothin' on us, ma'am. Can't arrest us if we ain't commitin' no crime."

"Shit, Ollie, would you shut your gaping yapper?" the cowboy turned his attention back to Angela. "Miss, I can see you ain't screwin' around, but you gotta lower your voice, yeah? Deadlock's got ears. But ya see, we really do gotta go to that meet up. They'll have our skins if we don't. They want everyone accounted for so they know ain't no one gonna go a-ratting on them. I'm sure yer in the know, but what's going on there? It's somethin' real big."

"Now who's running their mouth, Jesse?" Ollie slapped the other boy on the arm--Jesse, Angela noted.

"Shove off, she probably already knows all I'm tellin'," Jesse was right, of course, Angela did know how big this meet up would be. That's why Overwatch was stepping in. 

"I can't tell you the nature of why, but your lives will be at risk if you go. I can't detain you, or otherwise stop you in any way, but if you know what's best for you please keep yourselves and any other innocents away from that meeting." She put her badge away, pulling her cardigan tightly around her. "I've told you all I can. I pray for your safety, I really do." She made to leave, but the boy named Jesse caught her arm, deep concern in his eyes. He said no more, and eventually let his hand slip from her arm, his eyes asking many more questions than he could say. Angela knew what he must be feeling, trapped between a rock and a hard place. It was so unfair, so entirely unfair. If it didn't mean blowing years of careful infiltration and planning, she knew Overwatch would have swooped in to save these boys in an instant. She knew it wouldn't be easy for Jack to make that call. But now, she needed to pull herself away. It was time for her to disappear. If either of them chose to report her, she needed to be long gone by the time they got back to their base. Hurrying off into the rain, darkness fell as the heavy storm clouds rolled in. Rain pelted her face, streaming down her cheeks like fat tears. Licking her dry lips, she tasted salt, and realized as she called a taxi to take her out of town that it hadn't just been rain on her face. She had been crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda a brief chapter, but I wanted to get another perspective in the mix. I always wondered how the younger members of Overwatch coped with the hard parts of the job, like not being able to save everyone you meet. Anyways, I'm sure we'll hear from Angela again, but for the next few chapters it'll definitely be back to Jesse's perspective. Hope you enjoyed! (Also, sorry if my German is a little butchered)


	4. A Little Bit o' Disobedience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another shorter chapter this time, but it didn't feel right to smash it together with the next one, so I decided it was best to make it its own entity. Quick warning, the flashback to young McCree has mention of past abuse/trauma, so if you'd rather skip it it's been divided from the rest of the chapter. Next chapter should be up soon!

Jesse tossed on his cot restlessly, their conversation with the waitress--Overwatch agent?-- playing over and over again in his head. Was there gonna be a bust at the meetup? Or was there something worse going down? Ollie had been in hysterics all the way back home, saying they should call their superiors, that this should be reported as a security breach, that they had a rat in the ranks. Jesse had just rolled his eyes, telling him to keep his shirt on. He needed to give it all a good long think.

Ollie had let him be after that, knowing Jesse was more of the brains between the two of them. But now, laying on his back and looking at the bare wooden ceiling of their little hideaway, he had no game plan. So what if they were busted at the meetup? There wouldn't be nothing incriminating on them, the gang was careful of that sort of thing. Unless of course, there was more to the meeting then their superiors had let on. For something they alluded was such a damn important meeting, they had been surprising tight-lipped about the whole nature of the thing.

The whole thing sat wrong with Jesse, who grunting as he turned onto his side to look over the other kids in the hideout. There were maybe fifteen, twenty of them all together, with the number shifting day-to-day as they came and went. The oldest there were Ollie an' himself at seventeen. The youngest...shit, maybe not even past thirteen. If shit went down tomorrow, those kids would be on their own, caught in the crossfire of whatever hell broke loose. He couldn't let that happen to them. The question now was what to do about that. Jesse scrubbed his eyes, fighting off exhaustion as night fell. Did he call up his boss and tell him the meetup was compromised? Ask him to postpone? Or did he ditch out, say fuck it and watch Deadlock burn from the comfort of a million miles away? These kids respected him, they would listen if he said they had to split. They'd pack their things right now if he asked them.

A sharp twinge of fear stopped him from making that call. He remembered trying to run before.

* * *

The first time he weaseled out from under his supervisors' noses he'd just turned twelve, almost a year gone by since he'd been taken from his mother. The boys in charge of watching him had gotten into a drunken brawl over a card game, and he'd slipped past them and out the door into the night, running as fast as his young legs could carry him. He'd been wandering down a set of train tracks, heading for the next town over when they finally caught up with him. He could still smell the reek of alcohol on one of the fella's breath as he was hollered at, the other guys holding him down with his face in the dirt. 

 _"No matter where you fuckin' go, we'll never not be able to find ya, ya little piece of shit."_ Spit from the man's mouth had sprayed Jesse's face, and he'd winced, unable to wipe it away.

It hadn't been the first time he'd tried to run, only the farthest he'd ever gotten--and the maddest he'd ever seen his captors. They were muttering to themselves, trying to figure how'd they'd teach him a lesson this time, as the cigarette burns and the beatings sure didn't seem to be enough to break his spirit. The whistle of a train had called their attention away from their argument, a terrible idea creeping across their faces before they turned back to the boy still pinned to the dust beneath them.

Jesse had kicked and yelled, throwing a fit as they picked him up and carried him back over to the tracks. Struggle as he might, he was outnumbered six to one, and the boys soon had him pinned down, his cheek meeting the cool metal of the railroad track. You could see the train thundering down towards them, an old-fashioned freight that guzzled fuel and roared as it approached them, whistle blaring into the cold night. Jesse remembered his heart halting, realizing the gravity of the situation his was in as tears of terror stung his eyes. The boys just laughed, holding him in place while their leader squatted in front of Jesse, raising a gnarled finger to point at the train.

 _"Ya see that there train, Jesse? No man or 'bot runs that clunker. No eyes to see you, no heart to pull the breaks. You'll be a nothing more than a messy stain by the time anyone comes to find ya. Or,"_ he straitened up, lighting a cigarette. _"Ya come back with us. It's as simple as that. That doesn't sound so bad, does it? We've always taken good care of ya, put clothes on yer back, put food in yer belly, and this is how ya thank us?"_

The train was close now, the tracks rattling violently, bouncing Jesse's head painfully against them. The boy was near to whimpering, begging the fellas to let him up, to please take him home. That he was sorry for running. They'd hauled him off the track at the last possible second, the wind from the train kicking Jesse's hat off as he sat a breath away from getting his face ground to nothing. Something had broken in Jesse after that, and he didn't try to run again, instead quietly and obediently going through the motions of training--of becoming a loyal part of the Deadlock gang.

* * *

Jesse curled his knees to his chest, allowing himself a moment of vulnerability. He would never admit it to anyone, 'specially not to Ollie, but Deadlock had him beat. Didn't matter if he wasn't being supervised anymore, there was always an invisible hand holding Jesse in place, keeping him quiet, obedient.

At least, almost always obedient.

Shaking the grip of old memories off, he got up from his cot, stepping over to the huddle of kids playing a round of go-fish on the floor of the shack.

"Hey y'all," He drawled, squatting to their level, "Mind doing me a mighty big favor?"


	5. Bite the Bullet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna throw an archive warning on now that this chapter is out, just to be safe. I'm super excited about how this one came out though, hope you enjoy!

Jesse was woken up at dawn by Ollie shaking him awake, a grim look on his face. Meet-up day, Jesse remembered foggily, groaning as his threw his legs over the side of the cot. The rest of the kids were still dead asleep, snoring up a storm.

Good, Jesse thought. It wouldn't be so hard to string a lie now. Pulling on a fresh shirt, he followed Ollie outside, the cool morning air pleasant after being inside the stuffy hideout. They set out on foot, the location of the meet-up not far outside of town, a little ways up the mountain. The teens didn't say much, walking together somberly as they headed up the dusty mountain path. Jesse toyed with his gun out of nervous habit, checking and rechecking that it was fully loaded, taking each bullet out to check for imperfections in the casing. Ollie was equally restless, taking out his tin of chewing tobacco and shoving a large wad into his cheek. Jesse wrinkled his nose, not one to turn down a cigar or two himself, but not a personal fan of the muck Ollie would spit from his mouth as they walked. He didn't mention it though, keeping his eyes on the path ahead of them.

Soon the trail met up with a proper paved road, marked only by a bent old sign rusted over with age. If you looked it over hard, you could just barely make out that it'd been a marker for the mother road, good ol' Route 66. This stretch didn't have much in the way of a tourist attraction, so not much traffic came through. The only cars for miles around were idling in the oasis of a single gas station, the owners no doubt inside buying cheap soda to escape the creeping heat of the day. Jesse licked his dry lips, thinking how good a soda sounded right about now. They hurried on past the station though, heading north down the dusty road, heat dancing on the pavement in waves.

Jesse took his hat off, fanning himself with it as they walked. "A real scorcher, ain't it?"

Ollie nodded quietly, spitting a large brown wad into a patch of wiry brush. He was visibly tense, his shoulders tight and his hands balled into fists in his pockets as they walked. Jesse had gave him a run-down of his plan last night, and while the kid hadn't liked it, he'd promised to go along out of respect for Jesse alone.

"I hope you know what you're doing," he'd muttered the night before.

Jesse hoped he did. They didn't know how long the meeting was supposed to go for, but he was fixing to stall as long as possible, keeping the kids out of it for as long as he could. It had been easy persuading them to stay behind, spinning them a story that an important package would arrive sometime before the meeting, and to not come along until it did.

As the two boys rounded a corner, they found their destination just a stretch more down the road. An old diner was tucked under the shadow of a cliff wall, this one not nearly as clean or as new as Auntie Pearl's. It was worn out and faded, looking like it had been around from the very beginning's of Route 66's heyday. Motorbikes of all shapes and sizes surrounded the outside, accompanied by a few hard looking folks moseying their way inside. Near the side entrance, a large commercial trailer had been parked, a large padlock and what looked like an hand and eye scan keeping anyone from snooping inside. Jesse whistled lowly, resting his hat back onto his head.

"What do you recon that's all about?" he nodded his head towards the trailer.

"Probably some sort of big weapon. Maybe a bomb? Could be just another big shipment of guns." Ollie shrugged, his nerves cooling into his usual disinterest.

"Maybe..." Jesse pushed it to the back of his mind, he had more immediate issues to deal with.

Ollie was the first to the front door, opening it wide for Jesse to grab as they went inside. Inside reeked of sweat and old beer, and as they entered the main area of the diner they soon found out why. It was beyond packed. Every gang member from miles around were there, sitting at the counters, packed into booths, or huddled in massive groups out on the main floor, the tables stacked to the side. It looked more like a crowded saloon than a diner at this point. Jessie and Ollie muscled their way through the crowds, trying to find a spot for themselves in the throng of people. A hand from the crowd caught Jesse's shoulder, and he whirled around, his blood running cold as he looked over the man behind him.

His hair was stark white, combed back carefully away from the man's liver-spotted face. His eyes were narrow and dark, squinting up at Jesse, smiling unpleasantly. The man's smile was what stopped Jesse in his tracks, teeth ragged, lips drawn thin and pale.

"Well I'll be, looks like ye stumble into jus' about anyone here. How're you keepin' yerself these days, Jesse?"

The old coyote. Jesse swallowed thickly, clearing his throat. "G'afternoon, Slim. I'm...I'm doing 'bought the same."

The grip on Jesse's shoulder tightened as the man smiled wider, a glint in his eye. Fear and hatred swirled in Jesse's gut. The coyote's real name was Slim Harvey, the man that had taken everything from him, brought him into this world he had no business being a part of. And if that wasn't enough to make Jesse despise him, he knew Slim fancied himself some sort of father to Jesse, going about saying how he'd rescued and raised him out of nothing. Jesse's hand clenched and unclenched by his side, wavering next to his revolver. He couldn't shoot him here of course, but oh, how satisfying that would be.

"Sorry t'make this reunion a short one, but I've gotta go find the boss. I'm late as it is." Jesse spoke evenly, trying to keep his emotions from getting the best of him.

"Shoot, I figured. You run along now, but don't be a stranger! I'll catch up with ya before we all head out." Slim winked, and Jesse suppressed a shudder.

Jesse tipped his hat politely, hurrying back through the crowd to catch up with Ollie, who had pulled a couple chairs from a stack on the wall. Slapping the seat next to him, he beckoned for Jesse to join him, leaning forward as the wannabe cowboy approached.

"Lookie here, they've got some sort of conference set up there," he gestured to a ring of webcams and speakers someone had set up in a semi-circle, facing a small stage set up on old milk crates. "What do you figure that's about?"

Jesse opened his mouth to reply, but stopped, finally picking his boss out from the crowd. He was the local leader, managing a few teams that worked a couple of towns in the area. His boss gave him a confused look, waving him over to join him at the bar. As Jesse came closer he looked all about, looking for other faces in the crowd.

"Hey Jess, where're all the kids? Weren't they comin' long with you n'Orville?" He nodded towards Ollie, who had perked up upon hearing his full name.

"They'll be along," Jesse flashed a winning smile, "I think they raised a bit too much hell last night. They were all hungover when I woke 'em this morning. Sure they'll be stumbling in a bit." It was a lie, but a good lie, and his boss ate it, nodding with a smile.

"I remember how wild I was at that age. 'Surprised you're not stumbling in with them." he chuckled, nudging Jesse with his elbow.

"Naw, I ain't no lightweight." he paused, looking over at the makeshift stage. "What's this all about, Percy?"

His boss, Percy, followed his gaze, looking a touch uncomfortable at the stage. "Ah, just a little auction. Anyone here can make a bid. Us, and a few other interested parties," he pointed to the webcams positioned around the stage. "Most of us are just here for security. Wouldn't want some bum off the street wandering in, would we?"

Jesse nodded, scanning the crowd. Were there agents of Overwatch among them? How many? His stomach churned, anxiety settling in. No matter how this ended, some of these men wouldn't be walking out of here. But what if Overwatch did win, what happened then? If he lived, he'd be arrested and interrogated, for sure. But what then?

Percy cleared his throat, pointing Jesse's attention back at the stage as someone stepped up, toying with the old microphone that had been placed there. "Better find your seat, boy. Auction's 'bout t'start."

Jesse hurried back to his seat next to Ollie as the auctioneer tested the mic, the screech of the old equipment earning him some groans and cusses from the crowd.

"Sorry about that folks, this mic's been in storage since twenty-twenty one. If everyone is here and accounted for a think it's time to get started."

Jesse's boss shot him a pointed look, and Jesse shrugged sheepishly, pretending to gesture to a text on his phone. On the way, he mouthed across the room. Percy rolled his eyes, going back to pouring himself a drink.

"How much longer do you think you can keep this up?" Ollie whispered, eyes fixed on the stage.

"Donno, now hush before your big mouth tips someone-" Jesse paused, seeing a commotion on the stage. A figure was being jostled forward into the dim light, an old sack over their head. "Wait, wait, wait, something ain't right here..."

Jesse's brows knitted, making to stand before Ollie pulled him back down. "What are you doing? Stay put!"

Once on stage, the figure was kicked to their knees, the sack ripped from their head. An omnic looked out into the crowd, sparks flying from where his voice module had been ripped out of his throat. The light in his eyes was dim, and his head plate was dented in in several places.

"Well, well, looks like we have our first item of bid tonight. Model M-880, been in operation for about thirty-odd years now. Slight neural trauma, but good for physical labor and won't be talking back to you." The auctioneer smiled, the crowd chuckling around him. "Let's start this bid at, say, seventy thousand?"

Jesse shot from his seat again, his gut in a knot. This was wrong. This was bot trafficking. He made to step forward, Ollie yanking him back again.

"Ollie, let me go, this is wrong."

"And what are ya planning to do, huh? Take on an entire diner? Listen, Jess, it's just a tin can. It's not like you or me, it ain't got feelings or family. It's just the enemy, yeah? It'd kill ya the moment it could."

The auction was already in full swing, gang leaders and the speakers in the ring crackling out bids as the auctioneer moderated. Jesse looked back at the omnic, the light in his eyes blinking in and out. This was a tortured soul. Killing omnics on the war front was one thing. This...this was cruelty. Ollie was right, he was beyond outnumbered, and he had a sneaking suspicion they all wouldn't hesitate to put Jesse in the omnics place on the chopping block. But yet...

Jesse pulled his gun quicker than Ollie could stop him, pointing it dead at the auctioneer. Everyone was focused on the stage, nobody noticing the threat just beside them. He paused, finger on the trigger. This would be it for him. He took a deep breath, lining up his shot.

Before he had a chance to fire, a deafening blast rang through the diner. In an instant, the room was silenced, the auctioneer falling to his knees on the stage. Jesse looked at his own gun, all six bullets still in their chamber. The room erupted, guns and knives drawn as Overwatch agents poured in from the front door. Jesse sprung into action, running towards the stage and pulling the wounded omnic down to the floor and out of the way of the hail of bullets.

"Get under there and stay low!" He shouted, shoving the omnic under the cover of the stage. A man fell beside him, clawing at the gaping bullet wounds that had shredded his leg, the omnic looking on in horror. If at all possible, the bot looked like he was about to be sick, scuttling under the low shelter of the stage and covering his head with his hands.

"Take that, you lil' bitch!"

Jesse turned to familiar voice, belonging to that of Slim Hardy. His companions had pinned a female officer to the floor, holding her up by the hair as another goon held a pistol between her eyes. Jesse didn't hesitate, putting a bullet through the temple of the man holding the gun. Taking advantage of the other men's surprise, the female officer kicked her way free, bringing both of them to their knees in the process. She looked to Jesse, looking slightly confused before she was thrown once again into combat.

"Can you fight?" She called, unable to look back at Jesse.

"Yes!" He yelled back, a few gang members turning on him.

"Then you'd better do it!"

And he did, letting his revolver do the rest of the talking. Turning over a table for a bit of cover, he held his position by the stage while chaos unfolded around him. At some point he thought he saw Ollie fighting too, but he couldn't grab the boy's attention, only spotting the flash of blonde hair in the crowd before he disappeared entirely. Stopping only to reload his gun, a bullet finally found Jesse's shoulder, nailing him square in the thick of his muscle. Staggering slightly, he lost his footing, falling hard and bashing his head against the counter behind him.

Trying his best to sit up, the scene began to go a bit sideways, the teen struggling to shake the fall. Looking out across the diner, his eyes fell, locking sights with Slim. A snarl twisting the old man's face. He was yelling something at him, unintelligible as the noise of gunfire and yelling drowned him out. Jesse didn't need to hear him. He knew without a doubt the next time Slim met him, he would try to kill him. Jesse fumbled his gun, the bullets in his hand spilling out over the floor. Men and women fell around him, but all of that seemed very far away, as if in a dream, perhaps. The noise grew muffled as Jesse lost consciousness, slumping to the floor in a heap.

* * *

 

Jesse moaned, the pain in his shoulder throbbing as he tried to turn onto his side. Why did his shoulder hurt so bad? Cold soft hands pushed him gently onto his back, pressing him again into the soft mattress of a bed. A bed?

 _Well, that can't be right._ Jesse mused, foggily. His eyes felt heavy as he tried to open them, the light from the window far to bright. He raised his hand to block out the light, finding a plastic clip stuck to one of his fingers. Pulse oximeter, his brain groggily told him. _But why am I at the hospit...?_

His memory came flooding back. The fight, the Overwatch officer, the bullet wound...his shoulder...

Jesse tentatively reached up to his shoulder, fingers probing delicately until they met a wrap of bandages. Probing further, he winced away, making a sharp noise of discomfort. Across the room he heard movement, the rustle of papers being put down, the clicking of a heal as someone stepped closer.

"Are you awake? Can you speak?"

Jesse grunted, using the palm of his hand to rub at his eyes, moving to sit up. The same cold hand stopped him, pushing him back down.  
"You mustn't strain yourself. You've suffered a minor concussion. You need to rest before we can test you speech and motor skills."  
Gosh that voice sounded familiar. It was soft, and reassuring. Maybe a few more minutes of sleep couldn't hurt...

Jesse drifted back off, waking up hours later in the dark. Bolting upright, he looked around his surroundings, his heart hammering in his chest. He had dreamed of the omnic, his head dented in, shaking in fear under the stage. Except in the dream he was there with him, his own head bashed in, his breath ragged. Slim towered over him, flipping the tin sheriff star through his fingers. _"Good luck finding yer ma now, cowboy."_ Jesse's yell had caught silently in his throat, shaking him from his sleep. His hands flew to his pockets, finding instead only the fabric of a hospital gown.

"Shit..." He squinted around the room, the only lights coming from the buttons of the machines around him, humming quietly in the empty room. The teen fell back onto the bed, exhaustion overwhelming him again. He did not dream this time, sleeping soundly, waking only when he heard a voice distantly speaking to him through the layer of sleep.

Although awake, he kept his eyes closed, listening to the voice speak to him, unbeknownst that they now had an audience.

"-Officer Jordan wanted to be here to tell you herself, but she's still recovering from her broken ribs. You should have seen the look on her face when the doc told her how long she was expected to stay in bed. If looks could kill...: There was a gentle laugh, then silence. 

Jesse finally found the words to speak. "Is she...is she gonna be alright?" He opened his eyes, greeting the man who sat before him, straddled on a chair. He looked like he hadn't slept for days, dark rings hollowing out his eyes, making him look older than he was. Old or not, he looked tired and concerned, looking Jesse over like he could fall apart at any moment. 

"Yes, she's gonna be alright. Some fucker gave her a nasty kick with a steel toed boot. Doc says she's recovering well though." 

"That's good..." Jesse rolled over to properly face the man, wincing again slightly. "And who are you exactly? Y'ain't no doctor I've ever seen."

"Easy there," the man extended his hand as if to hold Jesse in place. "I can't have Angela tearing me a new one if you over-exert yourself on my behalf. Name's Gabriel Reyes, I'm here to give you an offer, but that's hardly something to spring on you just after you've woken up. Let me talk to your doc, see if we can get you your things. We can talk after that."

"Sounds mighty reasonable of you..." Jesse watched Gabriel leave, many questions still burning on his tongue. Had the sting operation gone as planned? Was he with Overwatch? Did Ollie make it out alive? Had others escaped? He sat up, nervously toying with a string sticking out from his sheet. A nurse came in, checking his vitals and marking something on the clipboard by his bed. Talking to Jesse casually, he carefully removed the IV and catheter and unclipped his pulse oximeter, asking him to wait while he went to grab his things. Jesse smiled crookedly, thanking him for his time and how skillful his hands were, winking in what he hoped still seemed like roguish charm. Sure enough, the nurse blushed deeply, excusing himself hurriedly from the room.  Jesse got up as he left, a little wobbly, but able to find his way over to the bathroom across the room. Someone had come back in while he was washing his hands, but by the time he had them dried the room was vacant again save the new addition of Jesse's clothes and belongings, cleaned and placed neatly in a pile. Changing quickly, he pulled on his jeans and tee shirt, finding to his relief his tin sheriff star next to his small pile of belongings. The only thing missing was his gun, understandably. As he looped his belt through his jeans, there was a knock on the door, and the nurse peeked back in. 

"Ah, sorry for the intrusion!" He blushed madly again, his gaze lingering at Jesse's belt. "Just wanted to check in, see if you were ready."

"All wrapped up, darlin'," Jesse replied, stuffing his small belongings into his pockets before grabbing his hat. "Where to, then?"

The nurse opened the door fully for him, allowing him to step out into the hallway. Gabriel was hunched in one of the waiting chairs, combing over the contents of a manila folder. Noticing Jesse had come out, he closed the folder, standing up to extend a hand to Jesse. "Glad to see you're doing better. Care to walk with me?" 

Jesse shook his hand, shrugging before throwing his thumbs in his belt loops "Shoot, my legs are a bit wobbly but I'm sure I could use the exercise." 

Gabriel smiled tiredly, extending his arm for Jesse to lead the way. They walked down the narrow corridor, a few more rooms like Jesse's lining either side. They made small talk, Jesse getting the creeping suspicion that Gabriel didn't want to jump to the big proposition just yet. Jesse sure was itching to know though. Finally, the questions came tumbling out. Who'd won, who'd made it out, the whole spiel, his words getting jumbled as they all tumbled out of his mouth in one go. Gabriel let him finish, stopping in the middle of the hall to rub the scruffy beard on his chin. 

"You ask a lot of good questions kid. I'm not sure I'm the right one to tell you, but you've got the right to know. World's not as simple as 'we won, they lost', but for the most part, the mission was successful. We've been trying to shut down Deadlock's bot trafficking ring since it started back in the early days of the war, and we were able to free a lot of innocent omnics, most of which haven't even been involved with the war. The bot you saved, well, we don't know if he's ever gonna speak again, but he made a point to make it known that you were the one that saved him. He's really, really grateful." Gabriel started walking again, Jesse following next to them as they turned out into a wider hallway lined with windows. A few people paused to look at them, whispering excitedly as they passed. Gabriel waved at them, smiling wryly at Jesse. "As it turns out, you've become a bit of a hero around here. Those kids came hiking up the mountain while we were still cleaning up the aftermath of the fight. Some of them were angry. But most of them realized this meant that they could go home, that they didn't have to fight anymore. You've saved a lot of innocent lives, kid."

Stopping in his tracks, Jesse let out the biggest, most freeing sigh of relief he'd ever had. Those kids all got to go home. They still had families, friends. Even if he went to jail now, even if his shoulder never fully recovered, it had been worth it. It would be alright. Gabriel had stopped a few paces ahead of him, waiting patiently, recognizing the relief that must be painting Jesse's face. Jesse sniffed, doing his best to collect himself before catching back up to his walking companion. A small worry still wormed around inside him though. Taking off his hat, he fidgeted with the brim as they walked onward, Jesse staring down at his boots as they did. "....And what about the rest o' Deadlock? Did they get rounded up, or...?"

The other man sighed, his brow creasing. "There was a lot of arrests, yes. A lot of casualties too. There was a pack that ended up making a break for it, taking their bikes and heading for the hills. We had wounded and the kidnapped omnics to attend to, so we weren't able to pursue them until later, and by then they were long gone. It was a victory for now, but Deadlock will be back, that much is for certain. But hey, listen, Jesse? You're gonna be safe here. This location is secure."

Jesse nodded, not looking up from his feet as they walked on down the hall. A silence fell between them as Jesse mulled this new information over. Gabriel had read the worried look on his face, he knew half of Deadlock had seen him shooting their own men, and it wouldn't be long till they had a name to go with his face. Speaking of names...

"Now, how do you know my name? I never went about introducing myself and hell, you never asked." 

"Well, there's no easy way to say this kid, but you've got a criminal record. We've had eyes on your town for months now, and we made a point of putting names to all Deadlock members operating there."

"So that's it, huh?" Jesse scratched the back of his neck, not knowing what he'd been expecting. If they'd had eyes on him for as long as Gabriel said, they'd have him pinned for just about every crime in the book. He grimaced, thinking of the more grizzly jobs he'd been a part of. They'd put him in for life, no doubt about that.

"Well...there is another option." Gabriel hedged. 

Jesse raised an eyebrow. "If you're looking fer information, I ain't got shit to sell. They don't tell the important stuff to lackeys like me." 

"No, no. I was actually hoping to offer you a job."

Jesse looked over, not sure he'd heard the man right. He studied his face, looking for signs of a lie, but Gabriel's eyes held nothing but sincerity. 

"You're, you're really serious about that. Given me a job n' all. What're you askin' me to do, community service?" 

Gabriel laughed heartily, surprising Jesse. "Well, I don't know if I'd call it that. I'm offering you a position on my team in Blackwatch. You really impressed Officer Jordan back at the diner, and you impressed me with how much you cared for those kids, and that omnic you saved. You really put your own life on the line in order to save someone you barely even knew. That's the kind of shit we look for in people." 

The name Blackwatch was a familiar one to Jesse, a kind of boogie man the older members of the gang would whisper about among themselves at night. Was Gabriel actually a member--no, the _leader_ \--of Blackwatch? 

"Listen, not that I don't 'ppreciate it, but what's a leader of a covert opps group doing moseying around a public hospital? Strikes me as not the smartest of moves." 

"Who said this was a public hospital?" Gabriel nodded over to the window, diverting their path so Jesse could look out onto the grounds below. Men an women marched in unison across the lawn, uniforms clean and tucked, a bright Overwatch blue. Farther off, airships took off and landed from a launch pad, and on the far wall of the yard, a watch tower sported the Overwatch logo, the bright white and orange flashing in the light of the setting sun. 

"I sure ain't in Kansas anymore, huh?" Jesse whistled, tipping his hat back onto his head. 

Gabriel nodded, leaning up against the wall, his arms crossed. "So you've got a couple options here, Jesse McCree. You go to jail, and I can't guarantee you wont be in there for the better part of your life, but you'll be your own man, no longer taking orders from everyone. Or, you join Blackwatch. We train you up properly, you fight the good fight without having to deal with all that red tape bullshit. The pay could be better, but that's a separate issue." 

Second option sure sounded more favorable, but what happened when Deadlock came a-calling? And Jesse knew they eventually would. He subconsciously touched the cigarette burns on his side, old memories washing over him in a thick, nauseating wave. He remembered the look on Slim's face at the diner, the murder in his eyes. He was an old man now, sure, and Jesse could easily overpower him in a fight, but what about the bastard that came after him? And the one after that? Or what if they all came at once?

"I uh...I don't know about..." Jesse could feel cold sweat breaking out on his lower back, his heart rate beginning to pick up. He felt shaky, and he stumbled, faces flashing in front of him as he leaned heavily against the wall. Where was he? Distantly, he heard Gabriel's voice, a strong hand on his shoulder keeping him upright. 

_"Hey, you okay? Do you need to sit down?"_

The voice was so, so far off--drowned by the wail of a train whistle in Jesse's ears. He could feel the grip of panic welling in his chest, and he turned to run, Gabriel catching him by the arm and pulling him tight against him. He held him as Jesse's panic shook his body, slowly easing the teen down onto the floor. He yelled something to someone walking by, or maybe that was just Jesse's imagination. His mother was in front of him, arm extended, crying out to him in the dirt. 

"Jesse, my boy, why did you leave me?" 

Tears streamed down Jesse's face, vaguely aware of a hand stroking his back, words distantly trying to soothe him. He looked up, the face above him blurry and far away.

"Ma?"

Tired eyes looked down at him, deep concern held in them. _"You're gonna be okay kid, just breathe._ You're safe here. No one's gonna hurtcha. C'mon, talk to me." the words became clearer as Jesse came out of the fog, still shaking heavily from the episode. As the panic faded, embarrassment washed over him. He'd experienced this kind of thing before, but he'd always managed to hole himself up alone until it passed. Sometimes it lasted forever, eating up hours of his time. He'd been too ashamed to tell anyone about it, afraid they'd bitch him out for being a fuckin' wuss ass. Everyone else in the gang had gone through the same treatment he'd had, why did he deserve special treatment? Sitting up a bit more, Gabriel's face came more clearly into view. Shame burned Jesse's ears, quickly looking away. 

"S-sorry about that, it won't happen again." He tried to stand, his knees week. Gabriel caught him again, easing him back down to the floor.

"You're not going anywhere, kid. We can talk more later. Just sit with me for right now." His voice was concerned, but stern, and Jesse didn't have much energy left to argue. Together they sat up against the wall, Jesse hanging his head between his bent knees, the nausea fading slowly. 

"What if I'm a liability, Mister Reyes? What if I'm not cut out for high risk missions n' shit?" 

Gabriel shushed him, slapping his hand onto Jesse's shoulder, squeezing gently. "Enough of that for now, kid. Don't think about it. And none of that 'Mr. Reyes' shit, yeah? Just call me Gabe."

"Gabe." Jesse repeated back to him, lifting his head to look at him, thankful for the gruff sort of comfort the man offered him. "I...appreciate it. Really, I do." 

"Ah, don't worry about it. You're not the first kid with PTSD I've taken in." 

"I'm not?"

"Nah, but I'm sure you'll meet him later. Really great kid, just...got his own troubles to work out."

"So you don't mind that I'm..." _Broken_ , Jesse wanted to say.

Gabriel didn't hesitate.

"I'd consider you a great asset to my team, Jesse," he slapped the teen's arm playfully, cracking a smile. "You're made of better stuff than you think."

Jesse wanted to say more, to thank Gabriel for giving him a chance he certainly didn't deserve. Before he could, however, the messenger had returned with a doctor who promptly whisked Jesse away, checking his blood pressure and hurrying him back to his room. Looking back over his shoulder, Gabriel waved goodbye to him, still sat against the wall where he'd left him. He'd prove that he was worth Gabriel's faith, he promised himself, the doctor fussing over him all the while. 

_I'm gonna make him proud._


	6. Growin' Fond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH Finally I get to write about some more of the Overwatch family! I don't know if I'm gonna write too much more of pre-fall Overwatch, maybe just a chapter dedicated to McCree and Genji. Thank you for all your kudos and comments, I really appreciate them (they help me stay motivated to write, lol).

Gabriel was true to his word on taking Jesse under his wing, putting him through proper combat training the instant he was cleared from the medical wing. Three months had passed since then, and Jesse was already warming up to the grumpy ol' man--Gabriel was a good teacher, and Jesse was a good learner, picking up on what was expected of him without much fuss or trouble. There was shooting exercises and combat simulations, but also just plain old duties and chores that wore the kid down to the bone, but never once did he dare complain. After a long day of training Jesse would near collapsed into bed, groaning and aching in places he didn't know he could ache, but feeling happier than he had in a very long time. He felt for once like he had a purpose--and though he wouldn't say it out loud--like he'd found a home for himself after all these years. Sure, Gabriel didn't hesitate to worked him to his breaking point, but the man matched his heavy regiment with glowing praise as Jesse succeeded in his tasks. He often met up with him to go to meals in the mess hall, tussling his hair or knocking shoulders playfully with the wiry teen, who tried his best not to stumble on impact. It was...weird, having someone older to look up to. But not unwelcomed. 

Today, Gabriel had squeezed a few hours off time into Jesse's busy schedule, insisting it was time the kid had some time to breathe. They spent the afternoon meandering around base, joking and chatting with each other before a spark of mischief lit in Gabriel's eyes.

"Race ya to the rec room, cowboy!" he flashed a toothy grin, yanking Jesse's hat over his eyes before taking off down the hall.

"Hey now, no fair!" Jesse righted his hat, bolting after him with a smile worming its way across his own face. He could hear Gabriel laughing as he ran, but it was kind and wholehearted, something Jesse was still getting used to. This whole friendliness, this warm acceptance by everyone he'd met, he kept waiting for the them to drop the act, to laugh mockingly at how he thought anyone actually cared. But that day had yet to come, and Jesse could feel himself growing soft on all of them. 

"Last one in has to scrub down the entire lavatory!" Gabriel called over his shoulder, shaking Jesse out of his thoughts. 

"You've got yerself a bet ol' man!" Jesse held onto his hat, sprinting past Gabriel as fast as his legs could carry. Gabriel just laughed more, picking up his pace till the two were neck and neck, powering down the hall towards the narrow rec room door. 

"Give it up Reyes, wouldn't wanna see ya throw out a hip," Jesse smirked, keeping his eyes on the door ahead.

"In your dreams, rookie!" 

Giving it his all, Jesse began to pull ahead, hat tumbling away as he sped up. Hand extended, his fingers reached out for the door frame, the thrill of victory within his grasp.

"Oh, you wish," Jesse heard behind him, and with that, the wind was knocked out of his lungs as he was tackled forcefully to the ground, the two bodies rolling and wrestling into the rec room, kicking and cussing as they came. 

"You dirty cheatin' sonovabitch!" Laughter bubbled up inside of Jesse as he and Gabe duked it out on the rec room floor, both pulling their punches as they fell in a mess, gasping and giggling away the last of their adrenaline. 

"You did pretty good, kid. Congratulations on a race well run." Gabriel beamed, thumped Jesse on the chest, both rolling lazily onto their stomachs as the pain from their tumble started to show. Jesse still couldn't lose his smile. Was this how Gabriel was with everyone? So...familiar? _Like a father_ , Jesse dared to let himself think. Not that he'd ever say that to the man's face. 

It was Gabriel who first looked up to see the foot tapping on the floor just inches in front of his nose.

"...Afternoon, Amari," Gabriel saluted sheepishly, propping himself up on his elbows. "Hope we're not interrupting anything."

Jesse looked up to put a face to name, recoiling slightly at the death stare the woman above them had locked upon Gabriel. Both hands on her hips and her mouth set in a thin line, Jesse recalled vividly the same look his mother had given him the time he'd trekked his muddy boots across her clean floor. Accept this, this was much worse. 

"Gabriel, I have half a mind to march you right to Morrison by the ear if I have to. What are you doing? Who is this? Do you have any idea how to enter a room without raising hell in your wake?"

Gabriel just rubbed the back of his neck, looking back over to where Jesse still sprawled on the floor. "Jesse McCree, this is Ana Amari. Ana Amari," he paused, giving Jesse a pointed look. "This is my newest recruit. You remember from my report." 

His look told Jesse it was time to stop lookin' like a damn fool. Quickly righting himself, he went to tip his hat, forgetting that it had flown off in his mad dash to victory. He did his right best to dust himself off though, standing up to extend his hand to Ana. "A pleasure to meet yer acquaintance, ma'am." 

She did not seem to notice, eyes still boring into Gabriel down on the floor. "You seem to forget I was there. I supposed you do clean up nicely, the last time I saw you Gabriel was pulling you out of the dust of that building. Thought you wouldn't make it." It took Jesse a second to realize she was talking to him now, having shifted the heat of her gaze to him while he was busy looking around for his lost hat. Hesitantly meeting her stare, he was surprised to find the blistering heat had reduced to something warmer, almost affectionate. 

"Look at you, Gabe has you all roughed up. Come sit with me and Fareeha, we were just having tea." She gently touched his arm, leading him over to the table situated in the corner of the rec room, tucked away from what would usually be a crowded room. It was nearly vacant in here today--save for themselves of course--and that of a small figure perched on the counter of the small kitchenette, contently waiting by an electric kettle. 

"Fareeha, what have I told you about sitting on the counter?" Ana scolded, waving the girl off. The girl--Fareeha, hopped off obediently, scurrying over to take her spot at the table. 

"Mama, is Lena coming today?"

"She'll be along, why don't you show me how you're homework's going."

Ana sat next to her, the young girl pulling out a tablet to show her the assignment her teacher had sent her. Something twisted painfully inside Jesse as he watched the mother and child, but he shoved the feeling back down, joining them at the table as they chatted. Gabriel finally stood up to join them, walking stiffly over (he really took the brunt of the fall, Jesse noted), and leaning up against the cabinets of the kitchenette, smiling fondly at the bunch. Ana made a light comment, and Gabriel chuckled along with her, fetching the mugs from the shelf above the sink. Jesse did his best to pay attention to their banter, but couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Glancing over, he was met by a pair of large brown eyes staring unabashed back at him, absolute fascination in them. 

"Are you a real cowboy?" Fareeha piped up, still staring unblinking at the teen. "Where's your hat?"

Jesse reached up to again woefully find he had yet to recover his hat. Shrugging, he leaned an elbow on the table to bring himself to her eye level. "Well little lady, if it looks, shoots, and smells like a cowboy, guess it might as well be." 

Fareeha giggled and leaned over, sniffing him before wrinkling her nose, "Sweaty. Guess you might be." 

Lifting an arm, he gave a sniff himself, amused by her blunt honesty. Before he could make a witty comeback though, a mug was presented to him, and he took it gingerly, the warm ceramic feeling heavenly in his callused over palms. 

"Is that a real gun?" Fareeha pointed, sipping loudly on her own tea. 

Ana stiffened, turning away from Gabe to raise an eyebrow at Jesse. "No guns at the table."

"Ah, shoot." Jesse fished his shiny new gun out of his belt holster, passing it over to Ana's waiting hand. Peacekeeper, Gabriel had called it. Something about the title made it feel right in his hand, less like a sin and more like the justice he had once wanted for the world. He was sad to see it leave his side, though momentarily. 

"So, tell us about yourself, Jesse. If Fareeha's eyes get any bigger they'll fall out of her head, I'm sure she's dying to know your story." Ana sat back in her chair, passing the revolver over to Gabriel, who set it on the counter. 

"Not much to say, ma'am. Been running with the Deadlock gang fer almost seven years now, and that's hardly a conversation fer young ears." He winked at Fareeha, who stuck out her tongue in retaliation. 

"No fair!" 

"Hush, habibti." Ana ran her fingers through her daughter's hair, her beaded braids clicking together. "Alright then, start at the very beginning."

"Well, I..." Jesse's hand found its way into his pocket, wrapping around his tin sheriff's star. For a second he thought about showing them, but instead he pushed it deeper, clearing his throat before he spoke. "My ma was a fighter, not like you folks 'er nothin'. But she wanted what was best for me."

Then, suddenly, it all came tumbling out. How desperately he tried to remember things, how his past kept slipping farther and farther out of his grasp. He remembered the earthy smell of his mother, the _CRACK_ of his toy gun, the red dust of the mountains. He desperately tried to remember the taste of her cooking, the name of the road he grew up on, but nothing came, all scrubbed away by the Deadlock brainwashing and a fair load of beatings. He left that part out though, Fareeha huddled close by his side as his voice quivered recounting his past. She had been his age, the last time he'd ever seen his mother. Ana seemed to understand the shattered way he looked at Fareeha, her own face grim as she reached out and took Jesse's arm. 

"You have been fighting alone for a long time now, Jesse McCree. You saved those children from Deadlock because you did not want them to face the same fate you have. But your fate is not yet set in stone. If I was your mother, I would not have never stopped looking for you, and that sort of thing makes waves. Your past is not lost to you, not yet, but you can no longer fight this fight alone." She squeezed his arm gently. "You already have Gabriel's support. Now, you have mine." 

Jesse felt tears prick his eyes, dangerously teetering on keeping his composure or dissolving into a blubbering mess. He didn't trust himself to say more, his quaking voice sure to betray him. He was saved, however, by everyone's attention being drawn to the door as a crackle of electricity arched through the room, materializing as a girl in the doorway. 

"Sorry I'm late! Got caught up in one of Winston's lectures. Kettle still on?"

Fareeha dropped her head to the table with a clunk, groaning at the intruder's obliviousness. In the moment of distraction, Jesse composed himself, hastily wiping his eyes on his sleeve and sniffling back the wave of sticky emotions. He really was going soft. 

"Lena, this is Gabriel's newest recruit. You remember Jesse from the practice range?" Ana smiled, referencing a story Lena must have told her previously.   
The girl, Lena, looked ready to burst from the shear joy on her face. "Jesse! Glad to finally put a name to face! Sorry about that incident with the whole almost shooting you in the foot, promise I'm not usually that clumsy! Oh! That reminds me," With another flash of light, she appeared by Jesse's side, nearly scaring him out of his damn boots. "Lose this in the hall, luv? Can't think of anyone else it'd belong to."

With a wiggle of eyebrows, she produced Jesse's battered stetson from behind her back, pushing it into the cowboy's open hands. No sooner was it in his grasp was it back on his head, happy to make the reunion. 

"Thank ya kindly," Jesse drawled, tipping the hat as Fareeha dissolved into giggles beside him, greatly amused by the over-exaggeration. Lena took the opportunity to zip over and tickle the young girl, causing her to shriek and squirm as the she laughed. Ana smiled warmly at them both, pointing out that her daughter's feet were the most ticklish, Fareeha yelping at the betrayal. Gabriel appeared a bit less suddenly at Jesse's side, putting a hand on his shoulder, warm and assuring. 

No, the familiarity was not something Jesse was accustomed to. It was strange to him, a part of him still waiting for it all to fall apart. But for now, he was content to let himself grow fond of these strangers, to let his guard down around them. For now, this was enough. 


	7. The Metal Man

Jesse suspected Gabriel was doing his absolute damnedest to get him out of his social comfort zone. He introduced him to every team member he could, pairing him  up with Lena and Angela for chores (it took Jesse many weeks to get over the awkwardness between him and his former, er, waitress), offering him up to help Fareeha with her homework (he hadn't completed much more schooling than her, but she enjoyed the company none the less), and generally trying to familiarize him with his teammates every chance he was given. 

Once combat-ready, Jesse was sent out on every mission Gabriel could clear him for, and _each_ one seemed to always feature _the same_ quiet teen in the strangest armor Jesse had ever seen. Wires and tubes poked out every which way, some even that Jesse coulda sworn simply disappeared into the kid's own flesh. Some fancy new physical augmentations, he figured, nothing he was too certain he'd understand even if he asked. Regardless, the kid new how to get shit done, and Jesse found himself growing to respect this odd, silent companion with each mission they completed together. He looked about the same age, maybe Jesse being just a touch older, but close enough compared to the senior members of their team. Maybe (to what he was sure would please Gabriel to no end) that's why Jesse found himself gravitating towards him as well, hoping to find someone else to talk to on the long flights between mission sites.

"Say, I donno if I ever proper introduced m'self, though I suppose you know me by how many times the ol' sergeant has cussed me out over the comms." Jesse flashed a grin, leaning against the wall adjacent to where the younger teen had sat waiting for the airship to take off.

"Mhmm." The kid replied. Jesse couldn't be sure, what with the mask and all, but that sounded almost like a smirk. There was a definite twinkle in his eyes though, and Jesse counted that amusement as a victory.

"Well, when I'm not getting my ass handed to me folks jus' call me Jesse, though I s'pose you mighta known that too, you seem pretty sharp." He backpedaled, realizing he'd stepped into a bad pun. "N-not saying that cuz you got that sword n' all. Just meant it cuz yer--"

"Thank you, Jesse McCree." the boy interrupted his sputtering, standing up from where he sat. "You are quite 'sharp', yourself. Perhaps that is why they call you a 'sharpshooter?'" The tone of his question was innocent, but his eyes gave his terrible joke away.

 _Alright, now you're jus' playing with me._ Jesse laughed along though, scratching the back of his calf with his boot. "Alright, that's fair. I'm sure you'd hold you're own with a gun. Or do you always use those little dart things?"

"Ah. Yes, they are what I trained with as a child. I was offered new weapons when I was recruited, but, they never felt right in my hands." He paused, looking uncomfortable at his armored hand. "Or, well, hand."

Jesse quirked an eyebrow before shrugging the comment off. "Don't think I caught your name, 'cept in roll call I think."

The younger teen was silent for a long time, and Jesse worried he may have offended him somehow. Finally, he spoke.

"Call me Genji, if you would. Pardon if that it too familiar, but. That would be my preference."

"S'fine by me!" Jesse shrugged, smiling widely. "Pleased t'meetcha, Genji."

\--

It wasn't long before the two became thick as thieves. They were inseparable, watching each others' backs on missions and goofing off around base, raising hell where ever they went. No matter where in the globe they were stationed, news always found its way back to Gabriel about how they had single-handedly gotten the entire team banned from nearly every club in Beijing, or how they had raided the base kitchens in the dead of night, waking half the base with the ruckus as they tried to recreate the flautas they'd snagged from a food truck that afternoon.. Gabriel scolded them of course, threatening to get Morrison involved--or worse, Amari--but he could not bring himself to be mad at his boys, troublesome as they were together. 

Naturally, with all the time they spent together, it didn't take Jesse long to catch that his companion didn't wear armor at all. Maybe it was the fact that he slept and showered in it, or perhaps that he had recoiled in pain after attempting to grab a pan off the stove with his seemingly metal hand that finally tipped the cowboy off.

He'd seen bionic limbs before, sure, but this was a whole new level. No sooner did he put two and two together did he start poking and prying at the subject, and not long after that Genji did finally reveal the truth of his past, all of it coming tumbling out after a late night of drinking and lounging on the rooftops overlooking the city.

"I had no idea," Jesse had whispered, shocked by the horrors his friend had lived. "I...I'm sorry I stuck my nose in your business, really I am."

Genji had just hiccuped and shrugged, tears drying on his mask-less face as he stared at the bottom of his bottle. "Now you know, my friend. I hope this does not change how you think of me."

"Shit, donno why it would much, you've proven yourself t'be more than a good friend to me. If anything, I respect'cha all the more now, bolts and all."

Smiling against the lip of his bottle, Genji shook his head, leaning heavily on Jesse. "It may just be the cheap alcohol talking, but if you weren't so hairy I'd kiss you right now."

Jesse sat up straighter, running his hand over the scrubby patches of facial hair he had worked so hard to grow. "Hey now, no call to be taking cheap shots at a man's beard."

"I assure you if it resembled anything close to that you'd have my utmost respect."

"Jus' you wait now, give it till the end of spring and this mess," Jesse gestured to the scruff on his jaw. "Will be winning the hearts of ever miss and mister from here to Santa Fe."

Genji rolled his eyes, scoffing at the thought, "You need a boyfriend. And a good shave."

"And you need to leave off the shitty beer, but we can't all be winners." The bottle was pried from the cyborgs mechanical death-grip, set aside as its owner dipped in and out of sleep, head slipping from where it rest on Jesse's shoulder. Jesse himself was still wide awake, kept up by the stew of emotions rioting inside him. Raw, unflinching anger at the elder Shimada brother, followed by plummeting sorrow at how much it had emotionally torn Genji apart, followed by relief that the younger Shimada was here, now, though drooling on Jesse's shirt sleeve--but at least safe and at ease in this small moment in time. 

"Sleep tight, partner."

\--

Time past. Three years flew by without Jesse so much as batting an eye, kept plenty busy by Gabriel, and now after his recent promotion, Jack Morrison.  It wasn't often he found off time these days, their efforts to send aid to the countries recovering from the war keeping him on his feet for weeks at a time. It had taken quite a bit of weaseling and more than a fair share of bribery to get a day off, promising Jack he'd be back to work before anyone had a chance to miss him. The new strike commander hadn't been so sure, but Gabriel had stepped in just in time, wrapping an arm around Jack's waist and pulling him close to whispering something into his ear. Jack had reddened considerably, waving Jesse away and agreeing to his terms. Jesse himself had groaned before hastily making his escape, feeling like a kid who'd walked in on his parents gettin' flirty. Couldn't much complain though, happy to finally have some time to do as he please, and he new just the person he wanted to catch up with more then anything.  

\--

"Now, you're pullin' my leg. You're really thinkin' of running off?" Jesse stared skeptically over the cards fanned out in his hand, studying his companion carefully.

"No, I'm not just going to disappear into the night," Genji picked a card from the pile between them, grunting in dissatisfaction at his draw. "I've just been...increasingly distracted. I feel I am becoming a liability to the team."

"Listen if this is about that night in Amsterdam--"

Jesse was cut off by a dismissive wave from his friend. "That is a separate issue."

The cowboy huffed, chewing the end of his cigar, "Then you're just gonna have to spell it out fer me, cuz as far as I've seen you've been right as rain till a few weeks ago."

"That is because I have tried my best to avoid the matter till now." He shifted uncomfortably, laying a run of four cards onto the table. "I brought my concerns to Dr. Ziegler's attention many times, and she assured me it was just my mind acclimating to my new body. But it has been years, Jesse. I do not no how much longer I can wait. If I can stand to look at what I've become any longer."

"Genji..." Jesse leaned forward, scratching the scruffy mutton chops he couldn't bring himself to shave. "Have you considered talkin' to someone? Outside of Angie? Hell, she's great and all, but she ain't a therapist, she's a field doctor."

"I have tried, yes." There was a long pause before he tossed a card into the discard pile. "My experience is...a new one. Many doctors seek the root of the issue, insist my pain is from my brother's betrayal. They do not wish to think of the implications of being part man, part machine. This is not an arm enhancer or a leg transplant. This is my brain implants, tissue regenerators, bonded muscle fibers, the entire half of my body that _doesn't belong to me_. This is a whole new scale. Many turn me away out of apprehension alone."

"You could get 'em reported for--"

"I do not blame them."

The pair fell silent, Jesse somberly adding another card to his hand.

"I'm sorry, I did not mean to burden you with my woes." Genji finally spoke.

"Genji, you're like a brother to me, you know that. I ain't much for advice, but I want what's best for you, and if you think taking a break from things so you can sort yourself out might help, then I gotta support you. Just..." The cowboy discarded before looking at his teammate, gathering up all the sincerity he could muster. "You come on back home when you find yourself. In one piece, mind. I donno what I'd do if someone else off and disappeared on me."

"I...truly appreciate your words. You have always been a good friend to me, even at my worst." His eyes smiled from behind his mask. "I suppose...I see you as a brother as well."

"Ah, hell, now you're just trying to butter me up." Jesse chuckled, pushing his hat back on his head. "You gonna take yer turn now or are ya gonna let me win this one?"

"Not likely," the cyborg replied, laying out the rest of his hand onto the table before standing. "I believe that's Gin. I win again, Mister McCree."

"Shit." Jesse threw down his own cards, begrudgingly forking over a small roll of cash to his opponent. "I keep saying this is the last time I letcha deal."

"Or perhaps you should stop wagering so much money?" Genji chuckled, giving a tired wave as he turned to leave. "You should get some rest, it's a long day tomorrow."

"Yeah..." Jesse watched him leave, mulling over their conversation. He sat quietly in the empty room, dimly lit by the single table lamp and the bright ember of his cigar. "...It always is."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I never state any specific ages, so for those of you wondering, by the end of this chapter Jesse's about twenty-six, making Genji about twenty-four. 
> 
> I'm sure Jack wasn't too upset about losing his best sharpshooter for the evening, what with getting some alone time with Gabe in exchange. 
> 
> Next chapter may take a little longer to come out as I'll be returning to uni in a few days! Thank you all so much again for your support, this has been so much fun to write and I'm glad you're enjoying!


End file.
